


catradora tumblr prompts

by offbrandevan (sevensevan)



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:02:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 14,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28230600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevensevan/pseuds/offbrandevan
Summary: An archive for all my tumblr prompt fills that weren't long enough/good enough to be their own oneshot. They vary in length, rating, etc. I'm on tumblr @sevens-evan.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> posting these bc a few people on tumblr asked me to! i have a lot of catradora stuff on my main pseud sevensevan, and a few prompts have ended up there as well. follow me on tumblr if you wanna participate the next time i write prompts!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: “You make me want things I can’t have.”
> 
> original author's note: weird angst au where adora stays in the horde i guess, i’m not the biggest fan of this piece
> 
> i would rate this like. a high t maybe? i don't know

Adora leaves afterwards. She always does, ever since Catra made Force Captain and they started doing…whatever this is. Catra’s pretty sure that if they had sex in Adora’s quarters, instead of Catra’s, Adora would still leave afterwards, just to avoid looking Catra in the eye.

“Where are you going?” Catra asks, watching from the bed as Adora dresses. Adora doesn’t look at her.

“Back to my quarters,” she says. Her words are clipped, stern. Catra can’t pull casualness from her best friend anymore.

“What’s the rush? Got someone waiting?” Catra asks. Adora doesn’t even respond, and the horrible, rough feeling in Catra’s chest grows stronger. She can’t even make Adora _mad_. “Don’t you wanna stay for a bit?” Catra asks, sitting up and letting the sheets fall from her body. “It could be fun.” Her voice is layered with innuendo, and Adora finally looks up from lacing her boots. She doesn’t quite _smile_ , but the tension that’s rested in her face since she made Force Captain eases somewhat.

“I wish,” Adora says. “I have an early morning tomorrow.” Catra frowns slightly. She hasn’t heard about any major missions, and there isn’t a captains’ briefing tomorrow.

“Another secret errand for Shadow Weaver?” Catra asks. Adora doesn’t respond, which is an answer in and of itself. “Aren’t you ever going to stop letting her control you?” She slips out of bed and walks over to where Adora is standing.

“It’s for the greater good,” Adora says. Catra hums, doubtful. A year ago, even six months ago, Adora would’ve argued, said that Shadow Weaver _doesn’t_ control her. She probably still believes that. She just doesn’t argue with Catra anymore. Catra pushes those thoughts away and reaches out, intending to straighten Adora’s jacket, but Adora catches her by the wrist.

“Don’t,” Adora says quietly. Catra blinks at her, confused. “It’s…confusing,” Adora says, “when you touch me when we aren’t…”

“Confusing,” Catra repeats. “Confusing _how_?” Adora drops Catra’s wrist and shakes her head helplessly.

“Maybe confusing isn’t the right word,” she says. “It’s—you’re _tempting_. You make me want things I can’t have.” Catra raises an eyebrow.

“You already _had me_ three times tonight,” she says. “If you’re worried about breaking rules, I think we already broke the fraternization ones.” Adora turns bright pink and steps backwards, putting distance between them.

“Everybody breaks the fraternization rules,” she says. “It doesn’t matter if it’s just sex. It’s that—when you do things like”—she touches the front of her jacket—” _this_ , it makes everything more complicated.” Catra looks at Adora for a long moment.

“We used to have sleepovers,” she says. “Do you remember that? Cuddling and talking and goofing off?”

“We were children,” Adora says. “We didn’t understand the rules.”

“ _Fuck_ the rules, Adora,” Catra snaps. “What do _you_ want?” Adora stares at her. “Just— _tell_ me,” Catra says, and she’s almost begging. “Tell me you remember what I meant to you, tell me you want…this, us. Tell me you want _me_.” She’s crying now, and she can’t even bring herself to be ashamed of it. Adora is ashamed enough for her—she looks away from Catra like the sight is hurting her.

“I shouldn’t have started this,” Adora says. “I’ve—I’ve confused us both by coming here. I’m sorry.” She hurries to the door.

“Adora,” Catra says. “Please. Stay.”

Adora leaves.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: things you said that made me feel real
> 
> original a/n: weirdo angst exploring the fact that catra was definitely a little suicidal in early s5 so. trigger warning for that, i guess

“Hey, Adora?” Adora pauses by the door to the hallway of the space ship. She looks back over her shoulder, to where Catra is sitting on the edge of the cot. Catra hesitates. She knows what she wants to ask. She isn’t sure if she _should_.

“Everything okay?” Adora asks after a moment of Catra’s silence, turning all the way around to face Catra. Catra shrugs, drawing her knees up her chest. It’s a position she’s gotten comfortable with in the days since Adora rescued her from Prime’s ship. Since…

“Did I die?” Catra asks.

“What?” Adora says, eyes widening.

“When Prime made me—when I fell,” Catra says. “I was dead, wasn’t I.” She isn’t really asking anymore. Adora’s pained, terrified face says it all.

“You weren’t dead,” Adora says. She’s always been a terrible liar.

“I was,” Catra says. Adora flinches like she’s been struck and looks away. “Tell me the truth.”

“You—” Adora takes a deep breath. “You weren’t breathing. For a minute or two, you weren’t breathing. But you’re okay now.” Catra considers it. Is she okay, now? She-Ra had healed her—had brought her back from the dead, apparently. She isn’t in physical pain, anymore. But she’s felt… _unmoored_ , since she woke up on the space ship’s floor. Like her soul is floating somewhere outside her body, watching her from behind.

“Yeah,” Catra says. “I guess. But I died.” She remembers it. Pain, and then Adora becoming She-Ra, blurry and distant, and then a slow, spiraling well of color that faded to black.

“Catra…” Adora crosses the room, returning to Catra’s bedside. “I’m not going to let that happen again, okay? I’m not going to let you die.”

“I’m not afraid,” Catra says. “It didn’t hurt.”

“ _Catra_.” Adora kneels down in front of Catra, looking up at her. “You should be afraid. You should—you should want to be here. Don’t you want to be here?” _Not really_.

“I didn’t want to make it out,” Catra admits. “That wasn’t the plan. I was going to die getting Glimmer out, and instead…” Green liquid, electricity, Horde Prime’s _voice_ — “Dying would’ve been better.” Adora inhales sharply at that.

“I don’t know what it felt like,” she says, “what he did to you. But, Catra—I’m really glad he didn’t kill you. I’m glad you didn’t die. Alright? I want you here.”

“Really?” Catra whispers. It’s—it’s _weak_ , begging Adora for validation, for _comfort_ , but Catra can’t help it. She can’t do it herself.

“Of course,” Adora says. “I don’t bring just anybody back to life.” Catra gives the weak joke a half-smile, and Adora smiles back. “Look, until you…want to be here again, I’ll want you here enough for both of us.” That sounds an awful lot like _relying_ on someone to Catra. The only person she’s ever really relied on was Adora in the _before_ , and that hadn’t exactly ended well.

But Catra needs this. At least for now, she needs someone to lean on. She’ll find a way to _want_ to live as soon as she can, because someday, Adora will let her down, and Catra doesn’t want to lose herself when that happens.

But for now, she says, “Okay,” and lets Adora’s words pull her soul the rest of the way back into her body.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: things you said but not out loud
> 
> original a/n: idk how much i like this tbh? it didn’t turn out how i wanted but i hope you like it. pre-show horde kid pining

“There we go,” Adora says softly. She leans over, pressing a kiss to the bandage on Catra’s hand. Catra watches her, mismatched eyes round and glossy with unshed tears. “All better.”

“Thanks,” Catra says, taking her hand back. She flexes her fingers, and Adora suppresses the urge to tell her to stop. Moving it around will only make the burn on her palm worse, but it’s not like Catra would listen. “I can’t believe Lonnie actually did it.” Adora winces at the reminder of how Catra got the wound in the first place. They’d been on cleanup duty, and Catra had been bothering Lonnie about her low score in the running tests last week. Lonnie had threatened to shove Catra’s hand onto one of the still-hot cook plates. Catra had laughed in her face and dared her to.

It hadn’t ended well.

“You shouldn’t have provoked her,” Adora says, sitting down beside Catra on the bed and setting her stolen medkit aside. Catra rolls her eyes.

“What, so it’s my fault now that Lonnie’s a psycho?” she says. Adora sighs. That isn’t what she meant.

“I just don’t want you to keep getting hurt,” Adora says. “I’m trying to protect you, Catra.” Catra’s tail flicks the way it does when she’s annoyed.

“I can protect myself,” she says. They both know that’s not true. Adora is far better at navigating daily life in the Horde without getting hurt than Catra is.

“Fine,” Adora says. “Next time you burn your left hand, I’ll let you try to fix it up by yourself.” Catra growls at her, but Adora’s point is made.

“Whatever,” Catra says. “I wanna sleep now.” She lies down, curling up on her side and facing away from Adora. That hurts—hurts _physically_ , somehow, somewhere inside of Adora.

“Catra,” Adora says. “I don’t mean it.” _I would never leave you_.

“I know,” Catra says, not looking back at Adora. “I just want to sleep.” Adora can’t tell if she means it, or if she’ll be angry at Adora for the next few days.

“Can I stay with you?” Adora asks instead. Catra sighs heavily.

“Fine, whatever,” she says. “Just don’t talk.” Adora grins and kicks off her boots, curling up behind Catra. She reaches out, pressing one hand against Catra’s back, the way she used to when they were little. Catra accepts the contact—doesn’t lean into it, but doesn’t hiss at Adora and tell her to go away. The warmth of Catra’s back beneath her hand makes… _something_ expand inside of Adora, some sweeping feeling that fills up her chest and makes her breath come shorter.

“Catra?” Adora says after a moment. Catra groans.

“What _now_?” she says.

“I…” Adora searches for the words. She doesn’t know them. She’s never heard of a feeling like this. She’s pretty sure she invented it, invented the way her heart moves every time Catra looks at her. If anyone else could feel this…it would be the only thing anyone ever talked about for the rest of time.

“Get some sleep,” Adora says eventually. She’s never going to find the words for what she’s feeling, so she tries to put it into her voice instead, tries to fit as much warmth and kindness into her tone as she can.

Catra seems to pick up on it. She shifts, pressing back into Adora’s palm, and her tail flicks up and settles across Adora’s thigh. Adora drifts off quickly after that, safe in the knowledge that, even if Adora can’t say it, Catra _knows_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: two miserable people meeting at a wedding au
> 
> original a/n: i see your ‘meeting at a wedding’ and raise you ‘reuniting at a wedding’

“This is a bad idea,” Adora whispers. She means it, but she can’t quite sound like it. The words come out breathy and weak, and Catra, who is pressed so close to Adora’s body that Adora can see the flecks of green in Catra’s golden eye, responds to them with a smirk.

“Oh, it _absolutely_ is,” Catra whispers back. Her voice is raspier than Adora remembers it. “Do you want to stop, though?” Adora swallows hard as the slow song in the background swells and Catra steps somehow even closer.

“Not really,” Adora admits. Catra’s smirk widens into a grin, and suddenly Adora is tipping backwards, Catra’s hands steady on her back.

“Good,” Catra says. She holds Adora in the dip for a moment or two longer, then pulls her back up to her feet. Adora holds back a gasp at how easily Catra moves her around. She had never been that strong in college. She must be hiding _incredible_ arms beneath her maroon suit jacket.

Suddenly Adora wants to know what else about Catra’s body has changed. She steps closer, close enough to be dangerous, Catra’s chest pressed against hers. Their noses brush, and they aren’t even pretending to be dancing anymore.

“Something you want, princess?” Catra whispers, and Adora feels their lips brush together as Catra speaks.

“ _Lots_ ,” Adora breathes. Then the song changes, and she remembers where she is. “But—not here. Glimmer would kill me if she caught us making out at her wedding.”

“Right,” Catra says, her tone suddenly changing from playful to irritated. “She never did like us together. None of our friends did.” Adora flinches back, putting a few more inches between them.

“Do you really want to fight over our past right now?” she asks. “Because I know I don’t.” She wants this to keep being easy. She wants to keep Catra here with her, her hands hot on Adora’s waist, and retracing their old steps would only lead them back to where it ended the first time around—with Catra walking away.

“I don’t, either,” Catra says. “You know, I’ve got a hotel room upstairs. No friends to judge us there.”

“Show me the way,” Adora says. Catra steps back, and Adora can barely mourn the distance before Catra’s hand is slipping into hers. Catra threads their fingers together, her grip firm around Adora’s hand.

“Follow me,” Catra says. Hand in hand, they leave the hotel ballroom where Bow and Glimmer’s wedding reception is being held.

They barely make it into the hallway before Adora is pushing Catra up against the wall and fitting their lips together. Catra laughs against her mouth, and Adora tries not to let that make her heart speed up.

“Little eager there?” Catra whispers between kisses, sliding her hand around the back of Adora’s neck to hold her in place.

“The night won’t last forever,” Adora says. She knows Catra. She knows that this is just a moment of temporary insanity. She knows that, in the morning, Catra will kick her out of bed, and Adora will wander home in last night’s clothes, and Catra won’t speak to her again for months.

She knows because it’s happened before.

“I guess it won’t,” Catra agrees. “Better get upstairs, then.” Adora sighs, reluctant to let Catra go. She doesn’t want to stop touching her, even for a moment. “Hey,” Catra says, drawing Adora’s attention again. “There are walls to kiss me against upstairs, too.”

“Yeah,” Adora says. “Yeah, okay.” She lets Catra go. Catra links their hands again and leads Adora down the hallway towards the elevator. Adora follows, staring down at their hands and kind of wishing this hallway was endless. As long as they’re still walking like this, Catra won’t push her away.

Adora is so tired of leaving when she’s told.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: celebrity/fan au
> 
> original a/n: ooh interesting choice anon, hope you like what i came up with!

The bell above the door rings.

“We’re closed,” Catra calls, not looking up from where she’s cleaning an espresso machine.

“I know,” the person says. “I saw the sign, and I’m really sorry, I don’t need to order anything, I just—can I just hide in here for like five minutes?” Catra straightens up, looking over the counter, and her eyes widen slightly when she sees who’s standing on the other side.

“You’re that chick from that TV show,” Catra says, as if she hasn’t had a crush on Adora Grayskull since she was eight years old and Adora was starring in a children’s show that played on the only channel Catra’s shitty childhood TV could get. “The one with the dragon.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Adora says, wincing slightly. “I’m Adora. Listen, I—there’s paparazzi out there, and I really don’t want to deal with them right now, and I think I lost them, but I just need to hide for a few minutes to make sure, so can I stay in here? Just for a little bit? I can pay you or something.” _Yes, yes, oh my God, stay forever, you were literally my gay awakening_ —

“You don’t need to pay me,” Catra says, impressing herself with how casual she sounds. “You can stay till I clock out, then I’m kicking you out.”

“Thank you so much,” Adora says. She wanders over to one of the little armchairs set up at the back of the coffee shop and collapses into it, sighing heavily. Catra eyes her over the top of the espresso machine, unsure where to go from here. She can’t just _not_ talk. _Adora Grayskull_ is sitting in her coffee shop right now. This will probably never happen again. But she also doesn’t want to come off like a fangirl—because she _isn’t_ a fangirl, she likes Adora’s work a normal amount.

Catra starts to make a drink. She glances up at Adora every few seconds, and each time finds her either checking her phone or staring at the ceiling absently, an exhausted look on her face. Catra can’t work up the guts to ask her about it. She carries the finished drink across the room and sets it on the little table in front of Adora’s armchair.

“Oat milk mocha,” Catra announces. It’s Adora’s go-to coffee order according to her Instagram and her interview with Rolling Stone. Not that Catra pays attention to or knows about either.

“You didn’t need to make me something,” Adora says. “I appreciate it, though! Um, I can pay you—” She starts digging through her pockets.

“Adora,” Catra says. “Chill. I’m a manager, nobody gives a fuck.”

“Are you sure?” Adora asks, eyebrows scrunched together adorably.

“Yep.” Catra sits down in the armchair opposite Adora’s, lacing her fingers together behind her head. “So, why are the paparazzi after you?” Adora picks up the coffee—Catra had put it in a ceramic mug instead of a paper cup so that Adora would have to stay longer to finish it, which is pretty brilliant if you ask Catra—and takes a sip before she answers.

“I was just trying to get dinner with my friend Mermista,” Adora says. “But then we got spotted, and it was just…a whole thing.” Catra winces.

“They’re still torturing you two, huh,” she says. “It’s been, what, eight years?” Adora gives her an odd look, and, too late, Catra realizes what she’s admitted.

“You do know who I am,” Adora says. “Not just that I’m some girl on TV.”

“Yeah, well,” Catra shrugs, “seeing you two kiss onscreen made me realize I was gay and probably saved my life or whatever.” Adora half-smiles, looking down at her coffee. Catra had almost made a heart in the milk foam, but had chickened out at the last minute and made a little flower instead.

“It saved my life, too, you know,” Adora says.

“What?” Catra says, frowning. Adora and Mermista’s characters had kissed in an episode of the teen drama Adora had starred in when Catra was in high school. Adora would’ve been around nineteen at the time, at the beginning of her film career and already well established in television. Catra can’t imagine why Adora would be in danger back then.

“Yeah.” Adora looks at Catra over the rim of her coffee cup. “I was just…I was so afraid that nobody would ever love me, or accept me for who I am. And then the kiss aired, and it was like…millions of people just appeared out of nowhere overnight. People who were just like me, and loved who they were, and it changed everything.” Catra clears her throat, trying to make the lump forming fade away.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asks. “You literally don’t even know my name.” Adora shrugs.

“You seem nice,” she says. “And besides, who are you going to tell?”

“Uh, Twitter?” Adora’s face falls, and Catra immediately feels guilty. “I’m kidding. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Please don’t,” Adora says. Catra nods, unsure what else to say. Adora has seemed upset since the moment she walked into the shop, and it seems like Catra is just making it worse. “The paparazzi are probably gone,” Adora says, glancing out the large windows that line the wall of the shop facing the street. “I should go.”

“Don’t you want to finish your coffee?” Catra says quickly, her heart jumping into her throat.

“I don’t know,” Adora says. “Caffeine makes me jumpy, and it’s pretty late at night.” She pauses for a moment, giving Catra an appraising look. “If I stay, do I get to know your name?”

“I’m Catra,” Catra says. “Um. You get to know that either way, I guess.”

“Catra,” Adora repeats, and Catra has a little bit of an out-of-body experience. Adora Grayskull is sitting in front of her, saying her name. “If you want me to, I think I can stay for awhile.”

“I’d like that.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't find the original prompt.
> 
> original a/n: high school au bc why not. chemistry lab shenanigans

“What does this one do?” Adora asks, holding a vial up to the light. Catra glances up from the data table she’s filling out and frowns.

“That’s the acid, dumbass,” Catra says. “It says HCl on the side.”

“It does?” Adora turns the vial in her hands, peering at the clear liquid inside like it’s about to do something other than just look like water. “Huh, it does.”

“Will you put it down before you spill it on your face?” Catra says. Adora pouts at her, but does as she’s asked and sets the vial down on the lab bench. Catra reaches out and scoots it down the bench, a little bit farther from Adora.

“Seriously?” Adora says. “I’m not _that_ clumsy.”

“No, but you _are_ an idiot,” Catra says. She can see Adora frowning in her peripheral vision, and looks up from her lab notebook with a sigh. “What?”

“You’re so mean to me,” Adora says. She’s still frowning, but Catra can see the corner of her mouth twitching, trying to smile.

“Are you this desperate for attention?” Catra asks. Finally, Adora grins at her.

“Absolutely,” she says, nodding. Catra shakes her head.

“Fine,” she mutters. “You’re an idiot. But you’re _my_ idiot. Happy?” Adora shakes her head and steps forward, a little too close to Catra, one of her hands resting on the lab table beside them. “Seriously?” Catra asks.

“Seriously.” Adora smirks down at her. Catra glances to the side, noting their teacher’s position on the opposite side of the classroom, helping another group. Their back is turned. Catra turns back to Adora and, with a roll of her eyes, darts up onto her tiptoes and kisses Adora.

“Is that enough attention for you?” Catra asks as she settles back to the floor. Adora blinks several times, a familiar dumbstruck expression on her face. She leans back, opens her mouth to speak—

—and knocks the vial of hydrochloric acid over.

“Ah, fuck,” Adora says. She reaches out for the sideways vial and almost grabs it before Catra smacks her hand away.

“It’s _acid_ , dummy,” she says. “Don’t fucking _touch_ it.” She sighs heavily, already turning away to go get their teacher. “I swear to God you would die without me.”

“I would,” Adora says, _way_ too sincerely. Catra makes a gagging noise as she walks away, doing her best to joke over the way Adora never fails to make her heart beat faster.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't find the original prompt.
> 
> original a/n: i respect u for empowering my habit of writing scenes where catra almost dies asghsagd. first i wrote her getting skewered in wild things, then the car crash in the roots that sleep, now this. definitely a content warning for some suicidality.

Catra is probably going to die here.

That’s what she thinks about while she bleeds. There’s a hole in her stomach—put there on accident by one of her own damn bots—and she doesn’t know if it’s hit anything vital, but at this point, it doesn’t really matter. She can smell her own blood. She can feel it pooling around her. Too much blood to lose and survive. Even if someone finds her, it isn’t like there’s a lot of other magicats running around available for a blood transfusion. She’s too far gone.

It doesn’t hurt, at least. Catra doesn’t really feel anything. Breathing is getting harder, though, and the edges of her vision are starting to go dark.

There are footsteps somewhere nearby. Catra can’t turn her head and look to see who it is, but when a voice says, “Catra?” she recognizes it.

“Catra,” Adora-as-She-ra says, her face floating into Catra’s view. “Is this—is this your blood?” Catra makes a quiet humming noise. She doesn’t think she can talk, and even if she could, what would there be to say? She and Adora ran out of things to say to each other when Catra tried to end the world.

“Where are you hurt?” Adora is asking. “I can’t tell. I can’t see, there’s too much blood. Catra, tell me where you’re hurt.” Catra can do that. She probably owes Adora that much for pretending to care. It’s nice, to die with someone there wanting her to live. Even if it’s an act, it’s a kind one.

With an inhuman effort, Catra lifts one hand. She flops it down, and it bounces against her body, right over the hole torn through her. That should hurt, probably, but it doesn’t. Nothing hurts.

Nothing has _stopped_ hurting in such a long time.

“Okay,” Adora is saying. “I’ve got you, Catra, okay? I’ve got you. You’re not dying here.” Somewhere in Catra’s dying brain, that registers, and it makes her unhappy. Catra is supposed to die here. It’s supposed to be over.

The world starts to glow, and Catra has heard about this part. Going into the light, the light that brings whatever comes next. She’s going to die today, after all.

As the light wraps around her, Catra smiles.

Catra wakes up alone in a clearing. The world smells like her blood, and her fur is sticky with it, but she can’t find a wound anywhere on her body, and she feels fine. Better, she feels _rested_. She isn’t sure what left her unconscious, but she remembers a bright light, and a feeling of warmth, and a feeling of _peace_.

Catra goes back to the Fright Zone and forgets about it.

(Years later, when the war is over and Catra is _happy_ , Adora always makes a point of kissing her stomach—the same spot, a little above Catra’s right hip. Catra never thinks about it enough to ask why.)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't find the original prompt.
> 
> original a/n: don’t say i never did anything for you. here’s some fucking fluff you wimp
> 
> (this was a prompt for a mutual of mine who shames me for writing angst lmao)

“Look at me and say it again.”

“For fuck’s sake, Adora,” Catra says. “How many times do you need to hear it?”

“I dunno,” Adora says. She sets her chin on Catra’s shoulder, making eye contact with her in the mirror before them. “Like, a thousand more today?”

“So needy.” Catra rolls her eyes, but turns around. Adora doesn’t let go of her, and Catra ends up pressed against Adora’s chest. Catra slips her arms around Adora’s waist and looks up at her, making direct eye contact. “I love you,” she says. Like magic, Adora’s face splits into a grin.

“I love you, too,” she says. Catra shakes her head and leans forward, resting her forehead against Adora’s collarbone to hide her own smile.

“You’re ridiculous,” she mumbles, then presses a kiss to the space between Adora’s collarbones, because it’s there, left exposed by the thin grey tank top Adora is wearing, and who’s going to stop her? Adora certainly isn’t. Adora is too busy kissing the top of Catra’s head.

“It still feels new,” Adora whispers.

“Well, it happened _yesterday_ , so.” Catra kisses across Adora’s chest, following the line of her collarbone.

“Yeah.” Adora shifts, giving Catra space to continue her mission of leaving a gentle kiss on every inch of Adora’s skin. “Do you think it’ll…stop feeling so new eventually?”

“I have no idea, Adora,” Catra mumbles. “I’ve never done this before.” A thought occurs to her, and she pulls away from Adora’s chest to look up at her. “Have you?”

“Have I what?” Adora asks. Before Catra can answer, Adora leans in and kisses her. Catra laughs quietly into her mouth. “Shush,” Adora whispers, chasing her lips.

“I’m trying to have a conversation, Adora,” Catra says, pulling back. Adora pouts at her.

“And I’m trying to kiss you.” Catra rolls her eyes, but lets Adora kiss her this time, soft and sweet.

“Done now?” Catra asks when Adora pulls away.

“Nope,” Adora says. “What were you saying?”

“Have you ever done this before?” Catra asks. “Been…y’know, with someone?” Something unpleasant pangs in her chest at the thought. Adora doesn’t— _belong_ to her, but the idea bothers her all the same. “While you were here, and I was…” _With the Horde. Evil._ “…away.”

“No,” Adora says. “Who would I have been with?”

“I don’t know,” Catra says. She ducks her head, suddenly embarrassed. “I was just curious.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Adora lifts one hand, cupping Catra’s jaw and tilting her head up, so she’s looking Adora in the eye. “When I first got here, I was… _way_ too screwed up to even think about something like that. And once I was a little better, I mean…” She shrugs. “Who would I have wanted, if not you?”

“…Right.” Catra tilts her head into Adora’s palm, closing her eyes so she can memorize the sensation of Adora’s fingers on her skin. “I guess neither of us know what we’re doing, then.”

“Not at all.” Catra opens her eyes and finds Adora grinning at her again. “But I wouldn’t do it with anyone else.” Catra feels herself turning pink, but she doesn’t try to hide it this time. She just smiles up at Adora and lets herself be seen.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: time
> 
> original a/n: i had two prompts with the ship and word so i’m just answering it here! here’s something to make everybody sad again since roots ended too happily
> 
> (this one is very sad oops)

It all slips together, eventually.

Adora is in her seventies when her days start to bleed at the edges. First she forgets where her keys are, then which drawer she keeps her socks in, then the name of their friend from the Princess Alliance who died young, the loss of whom nearly tore apart Adora’s marriage. That’s when Catra drags her out to Mystacor, to Castaspella and Juliet’s daughter, whose name Adora has also forgotten.

There’s no cure, but the girl— _Adora can’t remember her name_ —casts a spell to make things easier. Instead of forgetting, Adora is unmoored, set to live in her memories rather than lose them. There’s a lot of complicated magic behind it, most of which Adora doesn’t understand. It’s supposed to make the process more peaceful for Adora, and kinder to those around her.

Catra cries when the spell is explained to them. Adora holds her tightly and stays strong for the last time by refusing to mourn herself. They go home after that, spend a few more months with each other while Adora is _this_ version of herself. But then, for a second one morning, Adora can’t remember Catra’s name.

Adora is the one to put her foot down, in the end. Catra doesn’t want to let her go, but Adora doesn’t want to forget. So she takes them both to Mystacor and tells Castaspella’s daughter that it’s time. She’s taken back into a quiet room and laid down in a soft bed. Catra stays with her, holding her hand. Castaspella’s daughter draws beautiful shapes in the air, and then Adora’s anchor is cut free.

It’s all one, after that. Adora drifts through her own head, through time as she remembers it. Every moment touches the one before. She is six, then seventeen, then forty-three, then nine. She runs through the Fright Zone and the Whispering Woods and the halls of Mara’s spaceship, from one into the next without pause.

Through all of it is Catra. In every moment Adora falls through, Catra is there. At the foot of Adora’s bed in the Fright Zone, Catra is there. On the beach beside her on one of the most beautiful planets they ever visited, Catra is there. At her bedside, through glazed and failing eyes, Catra is there.

Catra with uncontrolled hair and missing teeth, Catra with grey streaks in her ponytail, Catra with a messily grown out bob and more freckles than she’s ever had in her life.

Catra, standing on a grassy hill as Etheria heals around them, finally beside Adora again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original prompt: clothes
> 
> no original a/n

“You ready to go?” Catra calls over her shoulder. She straightens her tie and gives herself one last once-over in the mirror. After a moment of Adora not answering, Catra turns around.

Adora is standing in front of the second full length mirror in their room, frowning at her reflection. Catra doesn’t know what she’s upset about. She looks beautiful. Her dress is similar in cut to the one she wore to Princess Prom during the war, but it’s white instead of red. Her hair is down for once. Catra can’t spot a single thing wrong with her outfit.

“Hey,” Catra says, stepping up behind Adora. “You okay?”

“…Yeah.” Adora meets Catra’s gaze in the mirror, still frowning. “I think I’m ready to go.”

“No you’re not,” Catra says, shaking her head. “You don’t look happy. What’s going on?” Adora almost smiles.

“You know me too well,” she mutters, then sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t…feel like _me_ , I guess. Wearing this.”

“The dress?” Catra asks. She glances in the mirror again, looking for whatever it is that Adora is seeing. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t know.” Adora tugs at the fabric with one hand. “It’s a dress.”

“…You don’t like dresses?” Catra didn’t know that. There weren’t really fancy clothes of any kind for Horde cadets, but Adora had worn a dress to Princess Prom, and She-Ra’s old outfit had a skirt. Catra had assumed Adora liked them, or at least didn’t mind them.

But Adora looks really, really uncomfortable.

“No,” Adora says. “I don’t think I do.” She sighs and turns around, facing Catra. “I promised Glimmer I would wear this, though. She wants us all to coordinate.”

“Okay, but I don’t think Glimmer wants you to go have a terrible time for the sake of coordinated outfits,” Catra says. “Just wear something else.”

“We don’t exactly have a lot of tailored suits lying around,” Adora points out. Catra pauses. That is a problem, actually.

“You remember when you used to be able to turn your sword into whatever you wanted?” she asks. Adora frowns at her, but nods. “Can you still do that? Just magic things out of nowhere?”

“I…think so,” Adora says.

“So make yourself a suit,” Catra says. “You can even stick with the white and gold color scheme.” She grins. “Problem solved.”

“Okay,” Adora says. “We can give it a try.” She turns, offering Catra the ties that hold the dress closed at the back. Catra makes quick work of them, and Adora steps out of the dress. Catra picks it up and walks across the room to hang it up, giving Adora a little space to work.

When she turns around, Adora is glowing. Catra watches from a distance, squinting against the light, and after a long few moments, it fades.

Adora is wearing a three piece suit now, white with gold thread, no tie. She tilts her head at herself in the mirror curiously, then narrows her eyes. In a flash of light, her jacket vanishes, leaving her in a shirt, vest, and pants, with a tie tucked into the vest.

She kind of looks like a waiter, but Catra decides to keep that to herself. She wanders back across the room to where Adora is smiling now, looking at herself in the mirror. Catra slips her arms around Adora’s waist from behind and presses a kiss to the back of her shoulder.

“Better?” she asks, propping her chin on Adora’s shoulder.

“Great,” Adora says. “I look—like me.” Catra doesn’t really get it, to be honest. Adora looked just as Adora in the dress as she does now. But she looks a lot more _comfortable_ , now, and that’s what matters.

“You look very handsome,” Catra says. Adora smiles at her in the mirror. “Should we go surprise Glimmer?”

“Sounds good.” Adora turns in Catra’s arms and presses a quick kiss to her lips. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Catra says, reluctantly letting go of Adora. “You’re the magic princess.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "i thought you were dead."
> 
> original a/n: catra and adora talk about the events of save the cat, brought to you by me liking to be sad

“I thought you were dead.”

Catra tenses, holding Adora a little tighter. They’ve been lying together, motionless, for long minutes now as Adora hyperventilates against Catra’s chest. There’s pre-dawn light leaking in around the shades in their window. It had been a nightmare of Adora’s that woke them both up, but she’s yet to tell Catra what it was about.

“What?” Catra says, near-whispers, keeping her voice as low and comforting as she can.

“On Prime’s ship,” Adora whispers. She pulls her head back, looking Catra in the eye. “When he made you—when you fell. I thought—I was holding you, and you were breathing, but then you—you stopped. And I thought you were dead.”

Something clicks for Catra, and before she can stop herself, she whispers, “I think I was, too.” Adora’s eyes go wide in the darkness.

“…What?” she says, and Catra winces. She probably shouldn’t have said that. It isn’t going to help Adora calm down.

“I remember falling,” Catra says, her stomach flipping just thinking about it. “I—I remember you holding me after I hit the ground. It hurt a lot, and then…then it’s just Mara’s ship. The pain was gone and I was looking up at you.” She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Maybe I was just unconscious.” It’s a lie. There’s a black hole in her mind where those minutes should be, and not the kind that comes from unconsciousness. There’s something different about the gap. Something empty.

“ _Catra_ ,” Adora whispers. She’s tearing up again, which is really not what Catra wanted, here.

“It’s fine,” Catra says. “She-Ra can bring me back from the dead, apparently.” This also doesn’t make Adora look any happier. Catra is off her game tonight.

“Catra,” Adora says again. She pulls Catra closer, burying her face in the spot where Catra’s shoulder meets her neck. “God, I—”

“It’s okay,” Catra whispers. She presses her hand against the back of Adora’s head, keeping her close. “I’m alive, alright? It’s okay.”

“You’re alive,” Adora repeats. There’s tears on Catra’s neck now, running over her skin and making her shiver. “You’re alive.”

“I’m alive.” Catra’s voice comes out choked, and she raises one hand to her face to find it damp. She didn’t realize she was crying. “I’m alive.”

They stay like that till morning. Catra feels a bit like she’s mourning herself.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "is that my shirt?"
> 
> original a/n: and they were roommates
> 
> (this one was a banger on tumblr lmao i'm proud of it)

“Good morning,” Adora says as she hears quiet footsteps behind her. She doesn’t turn around, though—cooking isn’t her strong suit, and she doesn’t want to overcook the omelette she’s working on.

“Mm.” Catra doesn’t bother with actual words before ten a.m. most of the time, and today is no exception. Adora hears the fridge open and tracks Catra’s movements through the kitchen by sound: a cabinet opens and shuts, a glass clinks against the countertop. It’s still novel to exist in Catra’s space, to witness her routines. They’ve only been living together for six weeks, after all, even if they have been friends for years.

Adora turns her omelette out onto the waiting plate. It’s maybe a little underdone, but Adora counts it as a success for her mediocre cooking skills. She turns around, intending to look for the salt and pepper, and pauses, frowning at Catra.

“Is that…my shirt?” she says. Catra looks up from her glass of water, blinking at Adora. She glances down at the grey t-shirt she’s wearing. It’s a bit too big for her, with faded letters declaring _Grayskull University, Est. 1896_ on the front. It’s the shirt Adora got at her freshman orientation at college, which was almost five years ago now.

“Guess so,” Catra says, and shrugs.

“Why are you wearing my shirt?” Adora is having a little bit of a crisis. She has a crisis most mornings, when Catra wanders around the apartment with tired eyes and messy hair before insisting on stretching on the living room floor for half an hour. But that’s just a normal, _oh fuck my roommate is hot_ crisis. This is an _oh fuck my roommate looks really good wearing my clothes_ crisis, which really doesn’t bode well.

Adora thought she was over her stupid feelings for Catra. She never would’ve moved in with her otherwise.

“Dunno,” Catra says, and Adora remembers that she had asked a question. “Do you want it back?” She grabs the hem of the t-shirt and starts to lift it up.

“No!” Adora’s hands fly up so fast they blur. “No, that’s cool, you, uh, keep it.” She can feel her face burning. Catra regards her with an amused look. Adora just tries not to hyperventilate.

“Hey, Adora…” Catra says, voice lilting. She steps closer, then closer _again_ , then suddenly she’s only inches away from Adora.

“Uh…” Adora clears her throat. “What’s up?” Her voice only cracks a little bit. Catra grins at her.

“Thank you,” she says, and walks away. It takes Adora about fifteen seconds to realize that Catra has stolen her omelette.

“Hey!” she calls after Catra, who has disappeared into the living room. “That was my breakfast!”

“I said thank you!” Catra calls back. Moments later, Adora hears her laughing.

Adora leans back against the kitchen counter and buries her face in her hands. She had really thought that she was done letting Catra give her butterflies. But apparently she isn’t, and now they’ve signed a two year lease together.

She’s so, so fucked.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: jolting awake after a nightmare and being comforted
> 
> original a/n: i would say i’m sorry but i’m not really that sorry

“Catra.”

The voice is distant, indistinct, and Catra barely notices it. She curls her body into an even tighter ball, waiting for the next spark of red lightning.

“ _Catra_.”

This time, the voice cuts through. Catra opens her eyes and lets out a long, slow breath. She sees plain grey sheets beneath her, feels the shape of a warm hand against her back.

“You were shaking,” Adora says, and Catra lifts her head, looking up towards Adora where she’s sitting up in the bunk, a few scant feet away from where Catra is curled up at the foot of the mattress.

“Sorry.” Catra sits up as well, carefully uncurling her limbs as the tension starts to seep out of her muscles. “I’ll move up top. Go back to sleep.” She starts to push herself to her feet, to move back up to the bunk that she’s _actually_ supposed to sleep in, but Adora catches her by the arm before she can get very far.

“Catra,” she says. “What was going on?”

“Nothing.” Catra tugs her arm away. “I don’t remember. Now shut up, you’ll wake up everyone else.” Adora gives her a weird look.

“Everyone else is gone,” she says. “Remember?” Catra doesn’t remember. She glances around the dormitory, and sure enough, every other bunk but theirs is abandoned. No Lonnie, no Rogelio, no Kyle, none of the other cadets they’ve slept in this room with for years.

“Where are they?” Catra asks, frowning. She really can’t remember. Was there some field training exercise that she and Adora somehow missed out on?

“Away,” Adora says. “Now tell me. What were you dreaming about?”

“It was just a dumb nightmare,” Catra says. “Shadow Weaver was…” She shakes her head. “You know.” Adora _doesn’t_ know. Not really. Not firsthand, over and over again like Catra does. But Catra really doesn’t want to get into the details.

“I know,” Adora says. “I’m sorry.” She holds her arms out, like she’s asking for a hug, and Catra glances around the room again. It’s as abandoned as it was last time she checked. She gives in and leans forward.

Adora holds her tightly, palms flat against Catra’s back. Catra’s own hands fumble awkwardly for a minute before they settle on Adora’s hips, wrinkling the fabric of her sleep shirt. They don’t usually… _hold_ each other like this. There’s always someone watching, always Shadow Weaver floating around a corner with lightning sparking between her fingers. But not tonight.

Adora’s hair smells nice. Catra thinks she might like to be held more often.

“Do you have nightmares like that a lot?” Adora asks, her whisper a warm breath against Catra’s ear.

“Sometimes,” Catra mumbles. The dreams don’t come as often as they did when she was a child. She supposes she’s more used to the lightning now. It doesn’t usually haunt her the way it used to.

“Why don’t you tell me?” Adora says. She pulls back from their embrace, looking Catra in the eye.

“I didn’t want you to think I’m—I’m weak,” Catra says. Adora hums in acknowledgement, lifting one hand and cupping Catra’s cheek. Catra’s breath hitches. She feels—she feels like she’s on the edge of something. That same pit of anticipatory fear in her stomach that she gets when she hangs off the edges of the buildings in the Fright Zone.

“Oh, Catra,” Adora whispers. “I already knew you were.” She leans forward. “Why do you think I left?”

Something flashes in the corner of Catra’s vision, and red lightning pours into the side of her face.

Catra sits up with a gasp. Her bedsheets—plain grey, soaked with sweat—fall from her torso, and she claws at them, trying to push them off of her legs as well. She feels stuck, _strangled_ , like Adora’s arms are still around her and pulling tighter by the second.

The feeling doesn’t go away when she drags herself out of the bed. It doesn’t go away when she spends the rest of the night pacing the edges of her Force Captain’s quarters, breath wheezing in her throat. She doesn’t know what to do to make it go away.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't find the prompt
> 
> original a/n: okay so horde days fluff to make up for my earlier crimes asdkjghsk. they’re like 13-14 here. also catra says fuck SO many times in this lol

“Adora?” Catra’s voice cuts through the white noise of fans and machinery in the room, and Adora freezes in place, grip tightening around the pipes she’s using as handholds to cling to the ceiling. “Are you still in here?”

“No!” Adora calls back. “You can go!”

“Hilarious,” Catra shouts. Adora tilts her head towards the ground, trying to get a look at Catra. It’s a mistake. She gets instantly dizzy, and one of her feet slips off the edge of the wall vent that she’s standing on. She replaces it quickly, her stomach churning.

It’s a long, long way down.

“Adora, what are—” Catra’s voice is nearby now, and Adora can tell exactly when Catra sees her based on the aggravated sigh she lets out. “What the _fuck_ are you doing?”

“Climbing,” Adora says. She’s perched in the corner of the room, several dozen feet off the ground. Her boots are on the wall and her hands are gripping the ceiling, spine bent backwards so she can see what she’s holding onto.

“ _Climbing_?” Catra sounds incredulous. “You’re gonna fall and break your neck.” Adora tries to laugh. It comes out choked and scared.

“Yeah, believe me, I know,” she says. Catra is quiet for a long moment, during which Adora readjusts her grip on the pipes and gets nauseous with fear as she realizes her palms are beginning to sweat.

“Okay,” Catra says. Her voice is loud, clear, and steady. Calmer than Adora is used to hearing her, actually. “Do you see that—I dunno, pipe junction thingy? To your left, near the wall?” Adora looks and immediately notices what Catra is talking about. It’s a small, T-shaped junction leading to some kind of valve.

“I see it,” Adora says.

“Grab it with your left hand.” Adora makes the mistake of looking down again just to give Catra an incredulous look.

“I can’t hold onto that!” she says. “I’ll fall!”

“No, you won’t,” Catra says. “And you can hold onto it. Just do it, alright? Trust me.”

“You’re going to get me killed.” Adora does what Catra tells her. Her hand wraps around the pipe, and she holds on as tightly as she possibly can.

She doesn’t fall.

“Okay, now move a foot down to the edge of that crooked brick beneath you,” Catra says. Adora glances down, identifies the spot Catra is talking about, and follows the order.

Catra guides her all the way back down the wall like that. It feels like it takes hours. By the time Adora gets down, she’s drenched in sweat and every muscle in her body is trembling. As soon as her boots touch the floor, she sits down hard and leans back against the wall, gasping for breath.

“Why the fuck were you climbing?” Catra asks. She’s glaring down at Adora, arms crossed. “Why would you go that high if you couldn’t get down?”

“I didn’t _know_ I couldn’t get down until I got stuck,” Adora says. “I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”

“You’re an idiot,” Catra says. She usually says those words in a teasing tone, one that lets Adora translate them into _you’re my best friend_. She isn’t using that tone now. She sounds angry. “You could’ve _died_.” Adora tries for a teasing smirk.

“Whoa, are you saying you’d miss me?” she asks.

“Of course I would,” Catra snaps. “Do you have _any_ idea how much this place would _suck_ without you?” There are tears in her eyes. Adora blinks at her, speechless. “Whatever,” Catra mutters. She takes a deep breath. “Why were you climbing in the first place? We have trainings for that shit.”

“I, uh…” Adora can’t think of a good lie. “You climb high places when you’re upset. I…wanted to get better at it. So I could come, y’know. Help you?” Catra stares at her, an expression on her face that Adora has never seen before.

“You’re an _idiot_ ,” she says again. “C’mon.” She holds out a hand. Adora takes it gratefully, and Catra tugs her to her feet. “You missed dinner. I stole you some ration bars.”

“Thanks,” Adora says. Catra lets go of her hand, but her tail flicks against Adora’s wrist. “And, uh…thank you for getting me down.” Catra sighs.

“Yeah,” she says. “You’re welcome. Whatever.” She darts forward and kisses Adora’s cheek. Adora barely registers that it’s happening before it’s over. “Never climb without me again,” Catra says as she steps back. “Now c’mon, let’s go before we’re late for check-in.”

Adora stumbles forward after Catra, eyes wide and one hand pressed to her cheek.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't find the prompt
> 
> original a/n: zombie apocalypse au (also you should read @soul-of-spades apocalypse au, it does not contain zombies but it is very good)
> 
> i stand by my recommendation, go read alex's fic. she's soul_of_spades here on ao3 go read it

Catra’s still pissed about the fact that zombies can run.

All the zombie movies she’s seen, TV shows she’s binged, comics she’s skimmed, and not one contained zombies sprinting like fucking Usain Bolt. And yet here she is, post-actual-real-life-apocalypse, being chased through the streets of a town she’s never been to before by a dead guy wearing an _I <3 NYC _t-shirt—who, by virtue of being dead, doesn’t ever get tired.

Catra is not dead (yet, anyways), and she is getting tired very fast.

The pistol she jacked from a house three towns over is half empty at her side, and she’s sure that a town this size is crawling with zombies. It isn’t worth risking the noise to get this guy off her tail. She has to find another way.

An arm shoots out of an alley beside her, wraps its hand around her wrist, and yanks her aside.

“What the fu—” She’s cut off by a hand landing across her mouth. She’s chest-to-chest with a girl: blonde, blue eyes, around her age. Catra has never seen her before in her life.

“Shh,” the girl says, voice almost inaudible. “If he can’t hear you, he’ll leave.” Catra narrows her eyes. She reaches up, grabs the girl’s wrist, and yanks the hand away from her face. The girl doesn’t fight Catra. She just presses one finger against her lips, eyes wide and intense.

Catra turns to look out of the alley and back into the street. The dead guy is passing by. He isn’t running anymore; he’s walking slowly, head tilted, rotting eyes flicking back and forth. Catra holds her breath.

He looks straight into the alley— _straight at Catra_ —and then turns and continues down the street.

“We should be okay now,” the girl whispers after a long, tense minute or two. “They’re usually half-blind. It’s dark enough in here that he couldn’t see us.” She gestures around the cramped, shadowy alley.

“Yeah, I know how to escape from zombies, thanks,” Catra says. It takes every bit of self control she has to hiss the words through clenched teeth instead of shouting them. “I’d be fucking dead by now if I didn’t.”

“…Okay,” the girl says. “I was just trying to help.”

“Whatever.” Catra turns, begins to step away. A hand wraps around her wrist again, and adrenaline floods into her veins.

“Wait—” the girl is saying, but Catra has already turned around.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch me again,” she says. The girl’s eyes go wide, and she takes a step back, bumping into the side of the building behind her.

“Okay,” she says, raising her hands. “Okay. Sorry.” Catra blinks. She looks down and realizes that she’s holding the point of her knife inches away from the girl’s ribcage.

“Sorry,” Catra echoes, lowering the blade. _When did she draw her knife?_ “Sorry. I…don’t like being touched.” A grating voice echoes in her ears, and she feels the ghost of electricity run across her skin.

“That’s okay,” the girl says. “Sorry. I just wanted to ask if you’re traveling with anyone.” Catra frowns.

“Why?” she says. The girl shrugs.

“Me and my friends are headed south,” she says. “We’ve heard there’s some kind of commune in Mexico. A whole community living together and staying safe. You guys could come with us.” Catra’s frown only deepens.

“Why would you want me around?” she asks. _What do you want from me?_

“Do you know how to use that knife?”

The question feels a little insulting. Catra answers it by spinning the knife on her palm and offering up her best bloodthirsty grin.

“You wanna find out?” Instead of being intimidated, the girl just smiles back. There’s a little bit of the insanity that Catra sees in the mirror reflected in those blue eyes, and Catra decides right then and there that she’s going to follow this girl and her friends.

“I’d love to,” she says. “But maybe on something that’s already dead.” She pauses, eyes lighting up. “You’ll get to kill lots of stuff on the way to Mexico.” Catra pretends to consider it.

“Yeah,” she says eventually. “Sure, Blondie. I’ll come see about this commune.”

“Adora,” the girl says. Catra blinks at her. “Not Blondie. I’m Adora.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't find the original prompt:
> 
> original a/n: there actually is no ghost/person in ghost hunters au, only person/person and ghost/ghost, but i’m going with costars au anyway bc i’m vibing with it harder rn
> 
> (if that's confusing to you you should follow me on ao3 so you'll get a notification when i start posting ghost hunters au)

“Cut!” Glimmer shouts. Adora sighs deeply and rolls away from Catra, sitting up and kicking her legs out of the bed. She feels the mattress shift beneath her as Catra does the same on the other side. They don’t look at each other.

“What is _up_ with you two?” Glimmer says as she approaches, slipping between cameramen and guys holding boom microphones. “This is garbage.” Adora winces, but doesn’t try to argue. It’s true. She and Catra are barely making eye contact, let alone selling the idea that they’ve been in love for years.

“Nothing’s up, Sparkles,” Catra says from the other side of the bed. Unable to resist any longer, Adora glances over at her. Catra has her arms crossed, her jaw set, and Adora recognizes the posture. She’s seen it a thousand times since they were little kids: Catra is repressing something. Holding something in. Usually, it’s anger, but today…

“That’s obviously not true,” Glimmer says. “What is going on with you two? Did you fight again?” _That couldn’t be further from the truth_. But Adora isn’t super excited about telling her director that she accidentally slept with her costar, so she keeps her mouth shut.

It really _had_ been an accident. Not a mistake, at least not for Adora, but an accident. They’d been a little drunk at Adora’s place, and they’d started talking about the old days, growing up together, the years they’d spent angry with each other in high school, and then suddenly they were making out on the couch, and what was Adora _supposed_ to do? She’s been in love with Catra her whole life. She couldn’t say no.

And now Catra won’t even look at her, even for work. They’ve _never_ let their personal shit get in the way of their jobs before. Catra must really, really regret it, if she’s breaking that unspoken rule.

“Okay, you know what?” Glimmer says, after neither Catra nor Adora say anything for several moments. “We’re gonna take fifteen. You two are gonna go find somewhere to talk, and when you come back, you’re gonna have this shit sorted out. Got it?” Adora nods, her face burning with shame. Glimmer walks away, shouting at the crew to take a break, and Adora glances over at Catra.

“My trailer?” she asks quietly. Catra nods without looking at Adora. Adora’s heart sinks even further in her chest, but she gets to her feet, walking off the main set and away into the mess of trailers in the parking lot. She can feel Catra right behind her, a half step behind and slightly to the left.

Adora holds the door of her trailer open for Catra. Catra _still_ doesn’t look at her as she climbs inside. Adora follows, closing the door behind her, and turns to find Catra leaning against the counter across from the couch, eyes down.

“Hey,” Adora whispers.

“Hey.” Catra raises her eyes, but they settle somewhere off to Adora’s left. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Adora echoes. “For what?” Catra shrugs.

“I’m being unprofessional,” she says. “I’ll stop.”

“I’m not worried about that.” Adora sighs. “I’m worried about _you_. You’re—can you please look at me?” Catra says nothing, but her eyes drag over, settling on Adora’s. There’s a look on her face that Adora doesn’t quite recognize, but it looks _painful_. “Did I hurt you somehow?” Adora asks. “You’re upset, and I—I know we didn’t exactly _mean_ to—do what we did, but—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Adora,” Catra says. “Don’t worry about it, okay? We made a mistake, and I’m being unprofessional. I’ll get over it, and things will go back to normal.” Her tone is… _cold_. Adora feels even more like she fucked up, now.

 _A mistake_.

“Right,” Adora says. “If you’re sure.” _If you’re sure you don’t want me_.

“I’m sure,” Catra says. “Let’s go get Sparkles off our backs.”

“Okay,” Adora whispers. “I’m gonna take a little break, though. I’ll be right out.”

“Sounds good.” Catra pushes off the counter and walks past Adora, back down the stairs and out of the trailer.

Adora sits down on the couch and buries her face in her hands.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't find the prompt
> 
> original a/n: y’all remember a couple months ago when i wrote a roommates catradora ficlet and it randomly got like 250 notes and everyone kept asking me to continue it. here y’all go. go wild

Catra has been protesting the pull-up bar since the day Adora brought it home. She has all kinds of reasons for it: it technically breaks their rent agreement, it’s ugly, it could damage the walls, she doesn’t want her apartment turned into a goddamn gym. Quietly, though, she had just assumed that Adora working out in her bedroom doorway—which connects directly to the living room—would be distracting as all hell.

She is absolutely, unequivocally correct.

Catra tucks her feet up on the couch beside her and opens her email. Across the room, Adora exhales loudly as she pulls her chin up over the bar for, as far as Catra can tell, the hundredth fucking time this morning. Catra watches her for a moment before going back to her phone. She skims her work email, finding absolutely nothing she wants to read, but eventually notices one that seems vaguely important. She taps on it.

Adora lifts her legs this time, instead of her whole body. Catra’s eyes come back up, watching as Adora tucks her knees against her chest, takes a deep breath, and very slowly rolls her whole body backwards, all without letting go of the bar. She turns completely upside down and then straightens out on the other side, her arms twisted to reach behind her instead of in front.

“That cannot be good for your shoulders,” Catra says. Adora looks up at her, looking almost surprised to find her watching—which, for fuck’s sake, Adora might not know that Catra has been in love with her for years but she _has_ to know how _annoying_ it is to have someone working out directly in front of you—and lets go of the bar, dropping to her feet.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Adora says. “And it’s fun.” She raises her arms above her head, grabbing one of her elbows and stretching her triceps. Catra ponders once again why the universe decided to bless her best friend with the ability to build _unholy_ amounts of muscle.

“Can we _please_ , I’m begging you, get rid of the pull-up bar,” Catra says. Adora grins at her.

“Absolutely not,” she says. She walks through the kitchen, headed for the next part of her morning routine: the bit where she makes a protein shake in the blender, which Catra finds _actually_ annoying and not hot-annoying.

“I swear to God, you’re gonna come home one day and I’ll have sold that thing,” Catra calls after her. Adora laughs from the kitchen, the sound echoing in the small space.

“I’ll just buy another one!” she shouts back. Catra rolls her eyes and sighs deeply, settling back on the couch and waiting for her ears to be abused by the sound of the blender.

One of these days, she _is_ going to have to sell the damn pull-up bar. It’s either that or one of these days, she’s going to kiss Adora.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: spin the bottle
> 
> no a/n

“Come _on_ , Adora,” Catra says, tugging on Adora’s arm. “It’ll be fun.” Adora shakes her head, pulling her arm back from Catra’s grasp.

“I don’t want to,” she says, and she’s said half a dozen times by now, but the seriousness of her tone must finally be clicking for Catra. Instead of making another grab for Adora’s arm, Catra turns and frowns at her.

“Why not?” she says. Adora shrugs. The hum of voices from the room down the hall suddenly swells, becoming a chorus of laughs and shouts, then the sound of a glass bottle skittering over uneven floorboards as it spins echoes down the hall. It does nothing to soothe Adora’s raging anxiety. “If you land on a dude, you can skip,” Catra says.

“It’s not that,” Adora says. Well, it _is_ that, but that isn’t all of it.

“Well, then, what is it?” Catra says, tilting her head. Adora just shakes her head. “I thought you wanted to get this out of the way,” Catra says. “Didn’t you say you wanted to have your first kiss before we leave for college? This is probably your best opportunity.”

“Well, yeah, but—” Adora sighs. She tries to find the words for _I thought it would be you_ without coming out and saying that. “I just don’t want it to be some random stranger, is all,” she says instead. “I always pictured it being someone _important_. Someone I care about and—and trust. At least a friend, even if it isn’t—someone I like like that. You know?” Catra stares at her for a moment. Adora shifts in place uncomfortably. She didn’t think that was a weird expectation to have, but the look Catra is giving her might make her reconsider.

Catra grabs her arm and starts pulling again. Adora almost protests, but then she realizes that Catra is pulling her to the side, not down the hall towards the room where people are playing spin the bottle. Catra leads her through a door and into a small, cramped bathroom. She closes the door, then pushes Adora up against it. Adora has to take a few deep breaths. Catra is very, very close to her.

“You want it to be a friend that you trust,” Catra says. Adora blinks, nods, tries not to hyperventilate. Catra seems like she’s leading up to something, like she’s about to—but that can’t be right. “Adora,” Catra says. “Can I kiss you?”

Later, Adora will be upset with herself for this. Catra thinks she’s doing a favor for a friend. There’s no way she can _possibly_ know what it means to Adora, and that’s—that has to be some kind of _wrong_. Adora will go over it again and again in her mind, feeling guilty, feeling like she took advantage.

Right now, she just says, “Yeah. I—yeah. You can do that. Yeah.” It’s maybe the least articulate she’s ever been, but she doesn’t get the chance to wince at herself before Catra is leaning up and kissing her.

Adora is expecting, with what little of her mind is still functioning, something brief. A peck, if that; something that _feels_ like Catra is just trying to help her out. Impersonal, chaste, over before it begins.

That is not what she gets. Catra kisses her slowly, and deeply, and with what feels like intention. Adora has no choice but to grab at her waist, just for something to hold onto.

By the time Catra pulls back, a satisfied smirk on her face, Adora feels like she’s about to pass out.

“There you go,” Catra says, and honestly, it’s _absurd_ that she expects Adora to be able to process words right now. “Now it’s out of the way.” Adora processes _that_. Catra looks happy, and she seems like she enjoyed it, but it didn’t _mean_ anything to her. Adora needs to remember that.

“Right,” Adora says, her heart sinking. “Out of the way.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't find the prompt
> 
> a/n: i am not using the actual dialogue of the prompt bc i don’t like how it’s phrased sdakjhgl but here you go horde era catradora for ya. heavily inspired by the fact that since i started lifting weights i become just. absolutely feral with hunger if i go more than six hours without eating and i think adora would do the same

“What the fuck, Adora,” Catra says, stopping by the side of their bunk. Adora, who is sitting on the bottom bunk and facing away from Catra, whips her head around. Her cheeks are puffed up comically, and her face is _covered_ in crumbs of grey ration bars. “I knew I heard somebody crunching,” Catra says. “You look dumb.” Adora starts rapidly chewing, glaring at Catra as she struggles to speak, and Catra just laughs. She hops over the mattress and sits down next to Adora, raising her eyebrows as she waits for Adora to finish eating.

“I wasn’t being that loud,” Adora mutters after she swallows. Catra rolls her eyes.

“Whatever,” she says. “What are you so hungry for, anyway? You ate a ton at lunch.” Adora had eaten all of her food and then a decent chunk of Catra’s.

“They don’t feed us enough,” Adora says. “Aren’t you hungry all the time?”

“No,” Catra says. “No, I’m not.” She pauses for a moment, thinking. There are _three_ ration bar wrappers on the floor in front of them, and Adora is licking the dust off her fingers, clearly still hungry. Catra could try to steal more food for her; she’s done it before, but not _this_ much food. Not without getting caught. Catra can’t help her with this.

“You could talk to Shadow Weaver,” Catra says. “You’re her favorite. She can probably get you extra rations.” The words are bitter. Adora doesn’t seem to notice.

“You’re right,” Adora agrees. She gives Catra a grin, which Catra would normally find cute, but it only draws attention to the _incredible_ mess Adora has made of her face.

“Dude, you’re, like, covered in crumbs,” Catra says. Adora blinks. Apparently, she hadn’t noticed. She wipes at her mouth, which honestly only exacerbates the problem.

“Did I get it?” Adora says.

“No,” Catra says. Adora tries again, and Catra shakes her head with a sigh. “Here, just let me—” She reaches out. Adora flinches back a bit, her eyes going wide, but Catra ignores her reaction. She cleans off Adora’s face with a few quick swipes, then pulls her hands back into her own space.

“Oh,” Adora says, and she sounds like she’s going to say something more, but instead she falls silent, staring at Catra with wide, surprised eyes.

“Shut up,” Catra says, for no real reason. She reaches out and wipes her hands on Adora’s pants.

“ _Hey!_ ”

“It’s your food,” Catra says. “Not my fault you’re gross.” Adora glares at her.

“C’mere,” she says, making a grab for Catra. Catra jumps up and back, avoiding Adora’s hands.

“Come get me,” she says with a smirk. Adora climbs to her feet, scowling, and Catra takes off through the bunk room, laughing as Adora chases her.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't find the prompt
> 
> a/n: this ended up having very little to do with the prompt but you can take it as backstory that they dated in high school SGLJDKH

The bell above the door of the convenience store rings quietly as Adora enters. She keeps her head down, eyes on the floor in front of her, her hood pulled up over her head. She can see an employee standing behind the checkout desk in her peripheral vision, and she doesn’t want to risk being recognized. It’s almost three in the morning; she _cannot_ sign an autograph right now.

Adora grabs what she came for quickly: a few protein bars, a bag of chips, a bottle of orange juice. None of it fits the diet she usually maintains, but it’s late, and she’s hungry, and she’s also having a little bit of a mental breakdown. She hasn’t been back to Grayskull City since she was eighteen.

Her strategy of simply refusing to raise her head seems to be working. The employee behind the desk doesn’t say a word while Adora grabs her things, and continues to say nothing when Adora piles her snacks on the counter. Adora watches as brown hands move in and out of her field of vision, the item scanner beeping as the cashier checks her out.

Adora is almost certain that she’s going to get out of here unrecognized when a familiar voice says, “Your total is $12.17.”

Immediately, Adora jerks her head up. It’s worth the risk of getting recognized to make sure that the person standing in front of her isn’t—isn’t _her_. It _can’t_ be her. That would just be too much of a coincidence, if the one time she comes back to Grayskull she runs into—

“Are you paying with cash or card?” Catra says. She isn’t even _looking_ at Adora. She’s looking at her computer, a deeply bored expression on her face.

“Catra,” Adora says. Catra’s eyes flick up from her computer, a frown beginning to form, but it gives way to wide-eyed shock when she sees Adora’s face.

“Adora?” Catra says. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“I’m—I—was hungry,” Adora says. She gestures uselessly at her snacks on the counter between them.

“Uh huh,” Catra says. “And why are you in Grayskull at all?”

“For, uh, the, uh.” Adora feels like she’s having a stroke. She hasn’t slept in almost thirty hours and Catra is still really, really pretty—if anything she’s gotten _more_ attractive since they were teenagers—and, best of all, she doesn’t seem mad. Adora would’ve expected, with what Catra used to be like and the way they left things, that the moment Catra saw her face she would’ve told Adora to get the fuck out.

“For the tour,” Adora finally manages to say. “I’m in a band.” Catra raises her eyebrows.

“Yeah, I know,” she says. “Kinda fucking hard to miss that with your face on billboards all the time.” Adora winces.

“I hate those things,” she mumbles. “You, um, you look good. Are you…doing good?” Catra stares at her for a moment.

“Adora, it’s three in the morning,” she says. Adora blinks. She isn’t sure what that has to do with anything. “I’ve had six espresso shots in the past two hours. I can’t do this right now.”

“Oh.” Adora feels, stupidly, rejected. She doesn’t even know what _this_ is. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be—” Catra huffs. “Just pay for your food before my computer gets mad at me, and I’ll unblock you on Instagram, and we can—I don’t know, catch up sometime.” Adora blinks at her.

“You _want_ to talk to me?” she says. Catra stares at her for a long moment. Adora feels pierced, examined, like an insect on a pinboard. Catra’s mismatched eyes are unnaturally bright in the washed-out lighting of the convenience store.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Catra says. “Cash or card?”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't find the prompt
> 
> a/n: superhero/supervillain au supremacy

Adora doesn’t expect to make it out alive.

She’d been warned about the bomb with literal _hours_ to spare, and warned by the bomber herself, oddly enough. It’s planted in a police station downtown, in the basement, and they’d had time to evacuate every single person in the _block_ before Adora went down to try to disarm it. The police had tried to convince her to let the bomb squad handle it; Adora had refused. She has Bow in her earpiece, and she’s yet to run into a piece of tech he can’t reverse engineer off a few photos and a detailed description.

Besides, if the bomb does go off, Adora _might_ survive. She has a better chance than any normal human, at any rate, with her magically enhanced skin. Not a _good_ chance, but at least a chance.

When Adora gets down into the basement and her earpiece fills with static, she mentally takes that chance and throws it out.

Without Bow, there’s no way Adora can defuse the bomb. But she’s seen this particular bomber’s work before, and even with the block evacuated, Adora doesn’t trust it not to kill people. There are police outside, a few reporters, bystanders gawking from behind the police tape line. All of them are in danger, unless Adora does something. Defuses the bomb, or throws herself over it, takes the blast with her own body.

That would kill her for sure. But Adora knows what her body can take, and if it comes down to it, her own death could prevent somebody else’s. So Adora stays in the basement, staring down at the wires attached to the bomb and praying that whatever’s jamming her signal to Bow will stop before the timer ticks down to zero.

“What are you still doing in here?” The voice comes from behind her, and Adora whirls around to face its source.

It’s the bomber. She’s dressed as she has been every time Adora has crossed paths with her: black spandex and maroon body armor, her whole head hidden beneath a black helmet that curves back into two points, almost like ears. The purple eyes of the helmet glow in the low light of the basement, and the voice modulator the bomber is using makes her sound robotic and dead. She hardly seems human, if not for the way her arms are crossed, fingers digging into her own biceps like she’s angry, or frustrated.

“You,” Adora says. She never calls the woman by name—she doesn’t _know_ her real name, and she thinks that the media’s insistence on calling her _Catwoman_ is both cartoonish and unimaginative. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“That thing is going to go off, She-ra,” the woman says, gesturing at the bomb. “There’s nothing you can do about it. Go.”

“I’ll disarm it,” Adora says. The woman tilts her head, and the glowing eyes of her helmet seem to narrow.

“You might,” she agrees, “if the signal jammer I hid inside the wall stops working suddenly. Otherwise you’re going to be doing it without your little friend in your ear, and for some reason I doubt you have the expertise.” Adora grits her teeth. She wants to ask how the woman can _possibly_ know about Bow, but she doesn’t have the time to waste.

“Either try to stop me or leave,” Adora says, and, in a move that is probably _very_ stupid, she turns her back to the bomber. She kind of expects an immediate attack. She doesn’t get one. The woman lets out a frustrated huff, which sounds like an electric sizzle through her voice modulator.

“It’ll _kill_ you, dumbass,” she says.

“That’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

“For _what_?” The woman sounds _angry_ now, and…familiar? Something about her tone, even through the modulator…

“I’m not explaining my plans to you,” Adora says, turning back around. “Get out of here before it kills you, too.” The woman makes an aggravated noise, stomps her foot, and pulls her gun.

Adora doesn’t have time to defend herself before a dart lands in her neck.

When she wakes up, she sees the sky. It’s a beautiful day in Bright Moon, sunny and bright with the occasional fluffy white cloud passing by. The light _immediately_ gives her a headache, and she rolls onto her side, groaning in irritation.

“Welcome back,” a voice says, and Adora remembers how she ended up passed out on a rooftop. She tries to jump to her feet, but she can’t quite balance, and she ends up on her hands and knees, glaring at the source of the voice. The woman is sitting a few feet away, her feet dangling off the edge of the rooftop, looking back over her shoulder at Adora.

“You drugged me,” Adora says. It comes out sounding a little offended.

“It was that or let you kill yourself,” the woman says.

“Wouldn’t that solve a lot of your problems?” The woman doesn’t answer. “Why did you save me, anyway? We’re enemies.”

“Yeah, I _know_ ,” the woman says. “I just didn’t wanna see your guts splattered all over the bomb crater.”

“But you’re fine seeing someone else’s?” Adora says. The woman looks away, down towards her own feet, and crosses her arms in front of her. The move had looked angry in the police station basement, but now, from what Adora can see, it’s…sad? The woman’s shoulders are slumped, her head down.

“Nobody died,” she says. “I’m good at what I do. That bomb destroyed the police station and absolutely nothing else.” Adora blinks, processing that information. Between the extensive warning she had been given about the bomb, and the way it was apparently engineered to only destroy its target…Adora wonders if this woman actually _wants_ to kill anyone. It certainly doesn’t seem like it.

“Just tell me why you did it,” Adora says. “Why did you save me?” The woman groans.

“For fuck’s sake,” she says. “Because I’m in love with you, okay? And I don’t want you to die.”

_…What?_

Adora has no idea _what_ to say to that, but her mouth settles on, “You don’t even know who I am.” The woman laughs. Halfway through, her voice modulator shuts off, and her laugh comes out unfiltered: raspy, sarcastic, _familiar_.

An impossible fear settles itself in Adora’s chest.

The woman reaches up and lifts off her helmet, revealing short, messy brown hair and a nasty-looking scar on the back of her neck. Then she turns her head, and Adora’s heart _stops_.

That laugh isn’t just _familiar_. It’s the laugh that Adora grew up with, fell in _love_ with, hasn’t heard in almost six years. It’s—

“Catra,” Adora says— _whispers_. Catra smiles at her.

“Hey, Adora.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: catradora + partners in crime au

Adora hadn’t really _intended_ to end up here.

She’s always had a strong moral compass, a sense of right and wrong. Nobody is quite sure where she got it—certainly not from her upbringing—but it’s always been loud, firm, and impossible to ignore. She has a very hard time not doing what she thinks is right, and while her sense of justice and what’s considered legal sometimes (often) conflict, following her instincts has generally allowed her to navigate life without making anyone exceptionally angry at her.

The problem is that taking care of her friends is very close to the top of the list of Adora’s priorities, and her best friend since childhood has decided to pull cons for a living. Adora’s moral convictions aren’t bothered by stealing a few million from some of the worst people on Earth, so she, like an idiot, had decided to tag along. One thing led to another, and now…

“ _Adora_ ,” Catra’s voice crackles through Adora’s earpiece. “ _Where the hell are you_?”

“On my way,” Adora pants out. She glances over her shoulder, pales slightly at the sight of at least half of the gala’s security team chasing her, and tries to run even faster. She’s fighting her expensive suit and immensely uncomfortable dress shoes with every step, but she manages a burst of speed, whipping around a corner just as gunfire explodes from the security team behind her, slamming into the walls and floor where she had been moments earlier.

Adora spies a glowing exit sign above a door and dives for it, spilling out of the building and squinting against the bright sunlight. She searches the street, slowing her sprint to a brisk walk as she looks around desperately. She’s already drawing stares, the crowd on the sidewalk giving her a wide berth, but Adora ignores them. The space is useful, actually; it makes it easier to look for…

_There_. Adora darts forward the moment she sees the motorcycle idling by the curb, a familiar figure sitting comfortably astride it. She throws a leg over the seat and wraps her arms around Catra’s midsection, barely catching her balance before Catra is pulling away from the curb and into traffic.

“What _happened_ back there?” Adora says into Catra’s ear, just loud enough to be heard over the bike’s engine. “I thought we were just scamming them at cards! There’s no way they caught me cheating!” She’s _good_ at cheating at poker, damn it—definitely good enough that a bunch of rich idiots looking for kicks at a mildly illegal gambling event couldn’t catch her.

“No,” Catra says. She whips the bike around a corner, and Adora holds on tighter instinctively, digging her fingertips into Catra’s abs through her dress shirt. Catra had disguised herself as one of the wait staff, so she’s less formally dressed than Adora, but she looks good enough that Adora had to sit down upon first seeing her earlier that afternoon. “They didn’t catch you. It was my fault. I got excited.”

“ _Excited_?” Adora repeats, disbelieving. Last time Catra had gotten _excited_ they’d ended up anonymously donating several dozen long-lost artifacts to museums in various countries.

“Can we talk about it later?” Catra says. “Like, when we’re not trying to escape the people trying to _kill us_?” Adora relents, because they really do have bigger problems right now. She can hear sirens in the distance.

It takes them nearly an hour and three vehicle switches to lose the cops entirely. When they finally do wander back into their hotel room, Adora is about ready to pass out—but first, she really wants to know what Catra is hiding in the briefcase she’s carrying, which she had definitely not had when they left for the gala.

“So,” Adora says, sitting down on the edge of one of the hotel beds. “You got excited.” Catra grins at her, a little bloodthirsty, and Adora’s heart flops over in her chest.

“Take a look,” Catra says, handing her the briefcase. Adora pops the latch, shooting Catra a long, curious look before she lifts the lid.

“Oh my fucking _God_ ,” Adora says. In her peripheral vision, she can see Catra’s grin widen, but she’s a little preoccupied with the dozens of sparkling gemstones sitting in the case.

“Those,” Catra says, sitting down in the armchair next to the bed, “used to belong to some European monarch or something. I didn’t really listen to the history spiel, I don’t know. The guy who stole them was going to make _bank_ off somebody who cared about all that at the auction later today. But I _don’t_ care about the history, so I say we just sell them.”

“Catra, this is, like—” Adora hesitantly reaches into the case. The stones are nestled in packing foam, and her heart drops as she lifts it up at the corner and realizes that there’s a second layer of stones just beneath the first. “This is _so much_ money.”

“Exactly,” Catra says. “I figure we sell them and we go on a fucking incredible vacation.” Adora shakes her head, speechless.

“I…okay,” she says. She can’t really argue with that plan.

“Good.” Catra stands up and reaches out, like she’s going to take the briefcase back, but instead, she just pushes the lid closed. The motion brings her to stand directly in front of Adora, their knees brushing, and Adora looks up, her mouth suddenly dry. Catra is smiling down at her. “I have a lot of places I wanna take you,” she says, voice low. Adora just nods like an idiot, wondering if Catra is _finally_ going to kiss her. They’ve been dancing around this since—well, kind of forever, but especially since they started working together.

Catra doesn’t kiss her. She steps back, turns away, says, “I’m gonna take a shower,” over her shoulder and disappears into the bathroom. Adora falls backwards into the bed. Her heart pounds, but it isn’t from the adrenaline still in her body from being shot at, or the— _at least_ —hundred million dollars’ worth of gemstones in her alp. It’s all from Catra.


End file.
